


Hear  No Evil

by AltruisticSkittles



Series: What a Nightmare [1]
Category: Thomas Sanders
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Eye Trauma, Gen, Horror, I've never wrote horror before so this should be interesting, Nightmares, Psychological Horror, Psychological Trauma, Torture, this is not for the squeamish please be careful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-26 10:57:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13856382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AltruisticSkittles/pseuds/AltruisticSkittles
Summary: Nightmares are illogical, therefore seeking knowledge should ease yourself into the waking world... right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when you're home alone, the wind is howling and shaking your house, you're windows are creaking, and you don't want to go to sleep anytime soon.
> 
> I know the subject of Logan having nightmares has been done, but I wanted to put my own spin on things. I hope it pays off.
> 
> Also, before you begin, I am not shy about writing gruesome things. If that makes you uncomfortable, please proceed with caution or get to a safer fic. You won't offend me. :)
> 
> Having said that, please enjoy!
> 
> \--  
> Chapter Warnings: Eye trauma, descriptions of nightmares  
> Word Count: 1380

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Logan cracked an eye open. The grandfather clock in his room stared back. Its pendulum swung back and forth, back and forth. Tick, tick, tick. Normally, Logan loved the white noise in the background, but when he woke up at 3 am for the fifth time in a row for no reason, he thought of shoving it out the window.

Perhaps that’s how he’d make the time fly by.

After brushing off a horrible Patton-like pun, he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. Perhaps a cup of warm milk would calm his nerves. Wait, when did he become nervous? He had no reason to be nervous. 

Logan slid his legs over the side of the bed. The cold floor bit into his toes. He shivered and reached for a pair of slippers at his bedside. After wrapping a robe around him, he shuffled to the end of the room and opened his door.

A single night light from Patton’s room lit the area. Logan’s shadow grew as he walked down the hall. His feet echoed as he made his way to the stairs.

A chill ran up his spine. Logan froze and stared at the floorboards. He stopped breathing and listened. Nothing. He shrugged and began walking again, his shadow darkening the way in front of him.

Logan felt the back of his neck shudder. Something was watching him. He turned his head, staring into the hall behind him. The nightlight illuminated its solitary spot, a beacon for Logan’s thoughts. Logan swallowed. He turned back around, noticing how twisted his shadow looked between the ceiling and the walls. 

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. You don’t see anything,” he mumbled to himself. He descended the stairs, each step stepping up his panic. He stopped several times and looked over his shoulder. Still. Nothing.

As he stepped onto the bottom stair, he saw the kitchen light illuminating the table. Virgil sat, his hands perched on a mug, and the smell of coffee floating through the room. He took a long sip, his eyes distant and staring ahead of him.

“Virgil,” Logan spoke, making his target jump, “what are you doing up at this hour? Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Virgil’s finger tapped on the mug. He swallowed. 

“Can’t.”

“You can’t sleep?” Logan asked. “I think we have some Restoril in the cupboard if that will please you.”

“Can’t,” Virgil repeated again. He kept staring at the wall, and yet his eyes stared through it. Logan tried several times to figure out what captured Virgil’s interest, but he gave up and chose to sit next to him. 

Virgil’s leg bounced under the table. His eyes kept narrowing, widening, squinting, blinking until he swallowed another cup of coffee and closed them. His hair set a dark shadow across his face, his cheeks appearing more hollow than Logan remembered. 

“Is something bothering you?” Logan asked. He watched Virgil hesitate before shaking his head and starting that monotonous motion with his eyes again. 

“Can’t.”

Logan’s chest burned. He growled, “Well if you would ask for some help from time to time, maybe you could.”

Virgil paused. His breath never came. His chest never moved. His leg slowed to a halt. His eyes widened, staring straight at the wall with open lips. His throat bobbed and hissed, as if stuck in a scream.

“Virgil?” Logan asked. He raised a hand to put it on Virgil’s wrist, hoping to shake him from whatever this was.

Virgil slammed his cup on the table, making the coffee and Logan jump into the air. It's hot contents splattered about, burning his skin and leaving angry red trails in its wake. Virgil’s breaths came quick and fast, his eyes screwed shut.

Logan backed up and grabbed the paper towels from the counter. He wiped off Virgil’s skin and the table.

“What was that about?” Logan questioned. Tears escaped Virgil’s eyes. Tears mixed with the eyeliner- no- darker than his eyeliner.

Logan watched Virgil open his eyes, the thick black mess oozing across his cornea. It spilled over. Virgil’s cheeks looked like he spent a day in the mines. The thick black liquid splotched onto the table and soaked Virgil’s clothes.

“What on earth-” Logan’s voice caught as he grabbed another paper towel. He tried to soak up what he could, but all it did was smear. The liquid stained his fingers. Logan put several towels under Virgil’s face and tried to wipe the goo off the table.

What was going on?

This… this had to be a dream. There was no way this was happening. He was still asleep. Still dreaming. Still snoozing. Still.

“Can’t,” Virgil choked out, his skin paled by the dark trails. The liquid slowed to a halt, and Virgil blinked rapidly. The slime coated his eyes, giving them a demonic black glaze. He blinked slower, harder and harder, his eyebrows knit together.

“Virgil?” Logan swallowed hard. 

Virgil’s hands went up to his eyes, rubbing them. Harder. Pushing. Squeezing. His fingers bit into the skin, and Logan pulled them away. Red splotches mixed with thick black spots surrounded his eyelids. 

Virgil’s head drooped. He rubbed his face on his shoulder, mixing purple and black together. Again. Again. A frustrated cry and he ripped a hand from Logan’s grasp. He wiped at his eyes and again tried to pull at the skin.

“Will you stop!” Logan grabbed Virgil’s hand again and pinned it to the table.

“Can’t” 

Virgil panted and turned his head all around the room. His breaths came fast and erratic. He swallowed hard, and his teeth slammed together to try and contain a sob.

“Can’t what, Virgil? What can’t you do? Please tell me!”

“Can’t see!” Virgil choked out. The thick mess again poured from his eyes. “Logan, I can’t see!” 

“Okay, okay.” Logan sighed. “This is nothing but a nightmare. A series of projected fears from the subconscious. You can see, Virgil. I just have to wake up.”

“W-what?” Virgil looked up at Logan, his teeth sucking in air. “What are you talking about?”

Logan squeezed his eyes shut. He woke Thomas several times from illogical nightmares in the past. He could do it for himself. The kitchen clock synced with his breathing.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Breathe in.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Breathe out.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Logan cracked an eye open. The sunlight peeked through his window and hit him square in the face. He groaned and rolled over. His clock shown 7:59, one minute before his alarm went off. 

Logan shuddered as he recalled the dream. It felt so vivid. Of course, that’s what nightmares were. They were nothing more than a trick of the mind to make the victim wary and wake themselves from a deep sleep.

Logan touched his toes to the floor. He put on his slippers and again walked out of his room, this time for real. He yawned as he stepped down the stairs.

“-a little wider and let me see. It’s going to be okay.”

Logan strained his ears. He heard shuffling and harsh breathing from downstairs. Logan quickened his pace to the bottom. A few sobs from downstairs followed after.

As he walked into the living room and to the kitchen, he saw Patton tilting Virgil’s head back. He rubbed at the skin around Virgil’s eye, a look of pain on his face.

“Is something wrong?” Logan asked.

Patton looked up, his eyes filled with relief and tears. 

“Oh, Logan, thank goodness you’re awake. I need your help. Virgil-”

Logan took one look and grabbed onto the doorframe. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t. He still had to be asleep. Logan squeezed his eyes shut and started breathing again.

“Logan!”

Logan’s eyes snapped up along with his head. Patton’s lip quivered, and he continued, “I don’t know what to do. Please, help.”

“I-” Logan’s voice caught in his throat. He backed up, back into the wall. No, this couldn’t be real.

“Patton, how many fingers am I holding up?”

Patton counted. “Three, but I don’t see-”

Logan sucked in a deep breath. He watched Virgil’s head turn toward him, his eyes as soulless as when he tried to wake up the first time.

Only this time, Logan wouldn't be waking up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There has to be something within Logan's library that can reverse it. He just has to find it.
> 
> \--  
> Chapter Warnings: This one's pretty tame compared to the first and next chapter  
> Word count: 1544

“So, you’re telling me-” Roman held a finger up- “you had a dream that Virgil went blind because of this black sludge that leaked through his eyes, and now it’s come true?”

Logan could only nod. He stared into the dark pools that were now Virgil’s eyes. That familiar chill ran up his spine, and he rubbed the goosebumps away.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Logan spoke. “There is no way Virgil’s eyes could’ve transformed from a nightmare.”

“Then please, tell me what happened,” Virgil snarked. “It’s not like I missed with my eyeliner pen this morning.”

Patton’s hand squeezed on Virgil's shoulder. “We’re all confused. Maybe… maybe there’s something going on with Thomas?”

“Impossible. We’d know,” Logan replied.

“Well I don’t see you coming up with anything,” Virgil snapped.

Roman growled, “Bickering is going to get us nowhere. Logan, perhaps there’s something in your library that can help us?”

Logan rubbed his chin. “I could take a look, but with the plethora of books I own, it could take weeks.”

Virgil whined in the back of his throat. Roman sighed and scratched his head.

“Perhaps if we all helped.”

“I’m in,” Patton piped up.

“My library is vast,” Logan explained. “It’s easy to get lost if you do not know the way out. Besides, who will assist Virgil if we all go in?”

“I’m blind, not helpless,” Virgil grumbled.

“He’ll be fine,” Roman replied. “Watch this.”

Logan’s eyes widened as Roman threw a cup in Virgil’s direction. Virgil leaned backward, and the cup bounced on the tile floor.

“Roman, what the fu-”

“You see? He is still Anxiety, after all. He can still detect danger, even without his eyesight.”

Patton squinted at Roman and walked over to pick up the cracked cup off the floor. Logan sighed and rubbed his temple. 

“I don’t want to know how you knew that’d work.”

“I didn’t.” 

Virgil clicked his tongue and said, “So you were totally okay with the cup hitting me?”

“That surprises you?” Roman asked, earning another glare from Patton. “Well, we should probably get going. The sooner we find the answer, the sooner we can get Virgil back to looking slightly less creepy.”

“I will fight you if you don’t knock it off, Roman,” Patton grumbled. 

Roman held up his hands in surrender.

Logan sighed, “We should probably get going if we’re going to make any progress.” He walked away, and Roman followed. Patton promised Virgil they’d be back as soon as they could and joined them. 

“So, you had a nightmare, huh?” Roman said and rose a brow. “The shoe’s on the other foot for once.”

Logan chose to ignore him. He opened the door to his room and stepped inside. To his left was a set of double doors. He walked over, opened them, and allowed the cool breeze to blow his hair around. Light piano music danced into the room, capturing Roman’s attention.

“You listen to music when you read?” Roman asked.

“It aids concentration,” Logan replied. He stepped into his safe space, one with wooden walls covered in books as far as the eye could see, and took in a deep breath.

“There are several sections I’d like to search through to see what is happening. Theology could explain how my dream materialized in the waking world. Psychology might determine what the dream meant and if I can stop something like this from occurring in the future, and the medical section could aid us on figuring out what happened to Virgil and how to fix it.”

“I’ll take psychology,” Roman announced and ventured forward.

Logan sighed and called out, “Wait, you don’t even know where you’re going.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find it eventually.”

Patton’s throat whined. 

“Roman, Logan said we can get lost. I don’t think-”

“A hero is never lost, just temporarily detoured,” Roman answered. Patton took a step after him, but Logan grabbed his shoulder.

“Don’t bother,” Logan grumbled. “He’ll figure it out eventually.”

“But Logan-”

“We have to help Virgil. He’s our priority. Patton, which section would you be most interested in?”

Patton thought for a moment. He replied, “I’m not sure.”

“Perhaps the theology section would be best suited for you.” Logan’s eyes locked onto Patton’s. “It’s going to be okay. We will figure this out soon.”

“I hope so,” Patton responded. Logan lead him through the bookshelves, winding in and out of each other, before stopping at a large section to the right. 

“If you find something, call my name. I will hear you no matter where you are.”

“Really?”

Logan nodded. He stepped away, leaving Patton to search through the thousands of books he owned. Logan winded through the maze of books, each step bouncing off the walls and tapping to the beat of the music. Logan took a deep breath. The rows of books felt like welcomed friends extending their hands to pull him from this nightmare.

At last, he made it to the medical section of his library. Everything Thomas learned, from common dietary necessities to basic first aid to what effects puberty had on the body, resided here. Logan thumbed through the books. His hand rested on a book titled “Eye care.” 

Logan sat at a nearby desk and noted Ave Maria orchestrated by Johann Sebastian Bach played in the background. The light mood cleaned Logan’s cluttered mind and brought a clear vision to his eyes.

The first page, unsurprisingly, was about operating blue lit devices at night without a filter. Logan cursed every day Thomas stayed up late staring at a blue screen. It destroyed necessary sleeping patterns. However, Roman and Virgil’s constant need for validation and Patton’s need to be there for Thomas’s friends always kept Thomas tossing and turning with a mobile device at hand.

Logan flipped through again, stopping at a page titled myopia, something both he and Patton suffered from. He had books to thank for that. It was no secret Logan liked close up work, and he found that damaged his ability to see things far away. The term, he noted, also meant someone couldn’t look at the broader spectrum of a problem, and he thumbed through the pages once again.

Logan stopped at a section titled “Chemical injury” and looked through its contents. When Thomas studied to become a chemical engineer, eye care was all but physically drilled into his mind. Logan read about what to do if the eye came into contact with acid, who to go to for help, and what to do if protective eye care was not implemented.

However, no chemicals talked about the sclera turning black when exposed.

Logan turned the page and stopped. The next few pages to the end of the book were blank. He grumbled and closed it. Thomas had not learned enough information about eyes to fill any more of the book, unfortunately. 

Logan next looked through a book on basic first aid. Some of the information repeated what was in the eye care book, but there were a few things that were different. Most of them had to do with physical injury. 

However, nothing stuck out to him again.

Logan slammed the book closed and put his head in his hands. There had to be something here! He tapped a finger on his desk and looked up at the sea of books before him. One by one, he pulled them from the shelf. He had a stack of 20 books at the table by the time he finished. He leafed through each page like a photo book. Some had nothing to do with eye care at all, but if one of them held one symptom of black sclerotic coating-

“Logan,” Patton’s voice called. Logan’s head snapped up. He put his book down and walked back toward the theology section, hoping Patton had more luck than he did.

“Yes, I’m here,” he called out. He rounded a few corners before he caught Patton sitting on a bean bag chair. Patton stood. He held a white to black gradient colored book with a violet spectrum starburst on it.

“I found something interesting,” Patton responded. He presented the book.

“I Celebrate Myself: God Is No Where, Life Is Now Here,” Logan read. “Are you trying to tell me Virgil has been cursed by some sort of deity for being atheist?”

Patton shook his head and replied, “No, it’s something I happened to read about when I got bored-” 

“Patton, we don’t have time to deter from the subject. I was sure you of all people would be most concerned for Virgil’s unfortunate circumstances, and here you are reading books that wouldn’t help.”

Patton’s head lowered, his lips pursed together. He mumbled, “Well, I thought it could be useful.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked at the watch on his wrist and sighed, “It’s getting late, and Roman is still buried somewhere in the depths of this library. The two of you need sleep.”

“But what about you?” Patton asked.

“I’ll stay up a little longer and see if I can locate useful information,” Logan responded. He walked away from Patton. “You can stay or follow.”

Patton set the book on the table and hastened after Logan, not wanting to be left alone with his thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan's running out of time. He needs to figure out what's going on before it gets someone killed.  
> \--  
> Chapter Warnings: Suffocation, disturbing imagery, drowning, blood, body horror, death, yeah this one's nasty please be careful  
> Word Count: 1887

Logan flipped through another page. This marked the end of book 52, and none of them had an answer remotely close to what Logan was looking for. He ran his hands through his hair and pulled his scalp. His eyes burned. He took his glasses off and rubbed them.

All those R.E.M.less nights were starting to wear him down.

He felt bad for leaving Virgil alone with this problem, but he knew if he didn’t get a sufficient amount of rest, he’d be no help at all. Logan put his books back on the shelf and walked out of his library.

The clock took over for the piano music; its monotonous tick broke the silence. He dressed for bed and folded himself in his comforter.

Logan lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars Roman painted for him all those years ago. He remembered watching Roman on the ladder, how slow he moved, how calculated. Roman wanted to paint the whole solar system on Logan’s walls, but Logan declined to keep the orderly appearance. Too many objects would cloud his mind.

Logan’s eyes slipped closed. He slowed his breathing. In. Out. In-

Virgil’s eyes stared at him, and Logan’s eyes shot open. He panted in bed, his hands clinging to his sheets. Logan swallowed and tossed onto his side.

“It’s going to work itself out, Logan. You’ll get Virgil’s eyesight back,” he whispered to himself. He closed his eyes again. His breathing evened out, and for a moment, Logan lost his consciousness.

“I can’t see, Logan, and it’s all your fault!” 

Logan sprang up from his spot, his body in a cold sweat.

“It’s all your fault!”

Virgil’s voice echoed around the room.

“All your fault!”

“All your fault!”

Logan covered his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut. Virgil’s voice screamed in his head. Logan chewed down on his lip so hard he drew blood. The copper taste coated his mouth and slid down his throat, choking him.

“Open your eyes, Logan. Don’t you want to see what you did, because I can’t,” Virgil’s voice got lower. Darker. More menacing. “Or are you too afraid to look failure in the face?”

Logan opened his eyes. Even with his clouded vision, he could make out Virgil’s silhouette. Logan grabbed his glasses from the nightstand.

Virgil stood at the end of his bed, his black eyes staring into Logan’s soul. That dark shadow cast across his face. Black tears slid down his cheeks once again, coating his jacket and pooling into thick globs on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Logan whispered. “I’m trying, Virgil.”

“Trying isn’t good enough,” Virgil growled. “What’s the matter? Aren’t you smart enough to figure this out?”

Logan swallowed thickly. “I need more time.”

“Time?” Virgil’s laugh sounded more like a sob. His tears coated Logan’s floor, rising up from the bottom as if the cracks themselves oozed the thick substance. “You’re out of time.”

Logan gasped as he realized the black liquid rose faster. It coated his bed. Logan stood up. 

Virgil stayed in his spot, the black goo swallowing his body. He stared straight at Logan, unaware of the danger. Unaffected by Logan’s terror.

Logan lifted his leg. The sludge held tight and made a sick sucking sound as his foot popped out. He noted it held the same properties as a non-Newtonian fluid, like those science experiments Thomas loved with cornstarch and water. He looked over to the door, just across the room. If he could make it-

Logan jumped off the bed and sprinted across the liquid. Virgil’s head followed, never blinking. Logan’s feet started to get sucked in, but Logan pushed forward. The door was almost there. Almost. He reached for the knob. His foot slid under the surface. Logan pulled, but it held his foot fast. The other started to sink as well.

No.

No, he was so close!

He reached his hand out again, his fingertips brushing against the doorknob. Logan twisted his body. Harder. A little farther. He could do it. He could make it. 

Both knees now sunk into the thick black goo. He found it harder to retain calm breathing. 

“This isn’t real,” he reminded himself. He swallowed. “I’m still dreaming. There’s no reason to be afraid.”

“Doesn’t it suck?” Virgil asked. Logan’s head snapped over to Virgil, who still stared at him with demonic eyes. “You know there’s no reason to be afraid, but no matter what you do, you can’t stop thinking about it. You can’t move. You can't escape.”

The slime swallowed Logan’s hips along with the doorknob.

“You feel as if you can’t breathe.”

It rose to his chest, constricting his breathing. 

“You start to choke.”

It covered his throat, squeezing. Logan coughed. He tilted his head back. 

“Virgil, please-”

“Fear is illogical, but it’s deadly if it’s all you can think about.”

Logan struggled to take a deep breath before the sludge covered his head. He squeezed his eyes shut. Calm. He had to remain calm. He wasn’t going to die. He wasn’t. He didn’t need to breathe. He wasn’t corporeal. He would be okay. He would.

Wouldn’t he?

Logan’s lungs burned. No, he shouldn’t need to breathe. He didn’t. His head grew light, and his heart pounded. Pounded, like the headache overtaking him. Stuck in a hellish rhythm. Stuck.

Oh god, he was going to die here.

Logan opened his mouth to scream. The slime gushed inside, swallowing the air that tried escaping. It tasted of sour milk. Logan gagged. He tried to struggle. Tried to surface. Escape. He had to escape. He had to-

A loud crack sounded through the slime. A bang and Logan felt his body moving. He tumbled forward and landed on the ground. The slime raced down the stairs and through the hall, leaving Logan sticky and wet on the floor.

Logan sputtered. Cough. Cough. Gag. He spat up chunks of black slime. His hair matted to his face, and he took off his glasses. The lights held a halo around them. Logan looked back into his room, dark as night and no sign of Virgil anywhere.

“It’s just a dream,” Logan mumbled to himself. He had to get his breathing back under control, just like the night before. He closed his eyes. In. Out. In-

Laughter cut through his thoughts. He opened his eyes. Again, the sound of laughter, followed by claps and cheers. Logan stood and long strings of black slime trailed after his body. He took a step forward and felt like an unoiled machine. His heavy steps thudded through the hall.

A light escaped under Roman’s door, the source of all this noise. Logan opened the door. To his right, he noticed the light pouring from under a red curtain. Logan pulled it back and looked around.

Roman stood adjacent to him on a stage, sword in hand, and swung it around as he gave a speech. 

Logan blinked. He must be in the mind palace theater. He peered out at the imaginary audience, their reaction to Roman everything he always wanted.

“Roman,” Logan called out, his voice hoarse.

Roman continued on his speech, lost in the Shakespearean words. Logan’s chest tightened. He needed someone to talk to. He needed validation that this was just a dream, that this nightmare would release him if he just thought logically.

“Roman, I need to speak with you!” 

Again, Roman ignored him. The anger in his stomach bubbled over. He felt the slime on his skin begin to pop and sizzle. He clenched his teeth. Hot. Burning, like the stage lights. Logan sucked in a deep breath. 

“Roman, would you shut up and listen to me!” Logan shouted. 

The black trails of slime slithered across the floor. It wrapped around Roman’s legs. Roman’s words trailed off as he looked down and gasped. 

Logan’s lips hung open. He watched Roman swing his sword at the sludge, severing trails like serpent heads. However, like hydra heads, they split apart and doubled. The crowd started to scream as it wrapped around Roman’s body, constricting his chest.

Roman lost his balance and fell to the floor. As Logan took a step forward to help him, Roman’s body propelled backward. Dragged off into the darkness. His scream the only thing that remained. Echoing. Bleeding into Logan’s ears.

Logan’s feet decided to move, and he cut across the stage. He looked around the darkness, but Roman was nowhere to be found.

“Roman!” he called out. He strained his ears. His breathing numbed all sound.

“I was just trying to help him!”

Roman’s voice. Faint, but there. Logan continued forward. A door with black slime trailing down the handle rested ajar behind the curtain. Logan stepped through the doorway and walked down a narrow hall, one he couldn’t see the end of. The lights cast flickering shadows on the wall. 

Logan’s footsteps hastened. He found himself running. Running. The hall growing. Growing. Narrowing. Suffocating.

“Dreaming keeps Thomas alive! You can’t-”

“Dreams are illogical.”

Logan heard his voice, distorted. Menacing.

A light shone from the end of the tunnel. He picked up his speed, his heart pounding with his footsteps. The light grew. And grew. And so did a black mass at the end of it. Logan squinted, wishing he could see what was ahead of him.

And then he wished he didn’t.

Roman’s own sword pressed against his neck, black trails of slime staining the handle and dropping onto the floor. A shadow creature held Roman’s head in place and tilted it back. Roman struggled but couldn’t break free.

The black creature looked at Logan and grinned, its sharp teeth glistening in the light.

Logan shouted Roman’s name, but it sounded like it came from behind him. Echoed. Disappeared. Swallowed by the massive hall behind him.

Roman’s eyes turned to him, pleading. 

“Logan, don’t-”

The sword struck deep. 

Black mixed with red. Roman screamed. His voice gargled. He coughed and gagged. Blood spattered from his lips and onto Logan’s face. The sword finished its trek across Roman’s neck, leaving a half-severing, oozing gash in its path. The shadow creature dropped Roman’s sword and melted away.

Roman’s hands rose up to his neck. He clawed at his throat, pulling off his skin, his mouth stuck in a scream that would never come. Blood pulsed through his fingers, over his hands, and mixed with the black trails on the floor. 

Logan caught Roman as he fell. Roman gagged and coughed, and thick blood spattered from the wound onto Logan’s shirt. His eyes stared up at Logan. Lost. Afraid. Draining of hope. Draining of life.

“Roman, h-hold on,” Logan said as he looked around the room. He held his own hand there, trying to stop the bleeding. Knowing it was futile. 

The air around him grew cold. The lights flickered and dimmed, one by one. The world wobbled and lost detail as they faded.

Roman’s breathing lapsed into small sucking gasps. His icy hand pressed onto Logan’s wrist. Logan shivered as Roman’s lips stopped screaming and faded into a small gasp. 

The last exhale.

“Roman?” Logan shook. “Roman!”

Logan’s voice echoed through the empty chamber. A chamber that now held no host. Devoid of life. Devoid of Creativity.

It was worse than Logan could ever imagine.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan comes to terms with what happened last night.   
> \--  
> Chapter warnings: Body horror mention, blood mention, death mention (all referring to the previous chapter), and lots of feels  
> Word count: 2002

Logan’s alarm woke him from the dead. He cracked his eyes open, his body refusing to respond. As he blinked, the skin around his eyes struggled to move. He wiped his eyes with his fingers, noting they came back damp. He sniffled and swallowed hard.

Even if it was a dream, the smell of blood would be forever clotted in his nose.

Logan turned off his alarm, put on his glasses, and stared at his stars. The sunlight extinguished their glow, making them dull and simple paintings on his ceiling. Logan tossed to his side. 

Roman’s terrified eyes burned in the back of his mind. He scrubbed a hand over his face. Maybe if he willed himself hard enough to forget…

Logan slid on his pair of slippers and pulled on his robe. Everything moved in slow motion. Even the clock seemed to tick at a hesitant rate as if questioning whether time moved or not. Logan exited his room and walked down the stairs.

The house sounded quiet, still, as if holding its breath. Logan arrived at the base of the stairs and stood in the living room. Nothing moved. He walked into the kitchen, and the smell of breakfast mixed together with the aroma of coffee. 

Virgil rose his head from his spot at the table, his eyes still dark. Logan swore they got darker since yesterday. He shuddered and pulled a chair out.

“Morning, kiddo,” Patton greeted. Logan noted the strained enthusiasm. Patton continued to watch his work and avoid his gaze.

Logan hummed in response. His favorite cup of coffee sat at the table, waiting for him to start his day. Logan stared into the black abyss and sighed.

“Bad night?” Virgil asked from his right. 

Logan refused to look up and answered with a nod.

“It’s strange you’re having all these nightmares,” Patton remarked. “Usually Roman takes the brunt of them so we don’t have to.”

Hearing Roman’s name made Logan flinch. The sound of Roman’s neck slicing open bled into his ears, and he rubbed them involuntarily. 

“Maybe he’s tired,” Virgil answered. “I mean, I’m always thinking up new things to petrify Thomas. Maybe I thought up so much that Roman can’t handle it.”

“You stop that,” Patton spoke, his voice soft yet stern. 

Virgil shrugged and took a bite of his pancake. Logan finally brought the mug to his lips, his hands trembling. The coffee caressed his tongue as he drank, just the right temperature so he wouldn’t burn himself but still warm enough to ease his stiff joints.

“Logan,” Patton spoke, shaking him from his thoughts, “if you want my help in the library, I’ll gladly start as soon as breakfast is over. I… I understand if you don’t.”

Virgil quirked a brow.

“Why? What happened?”

Logan swallowed his coffee. He looked away from Patton, guilt lapping away his thirst. Virgil pursed his lips and tilted his head. 

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Patton replied. He sighed. “I got a little distracted is all.”

Logan answered, “Perhaps I was too insensitive to you yesterday.”

Patton sighed through his nose and shook his head. He spooned the eggs onto a plate. As he turned, Logan noticed how red and puffy his eyes looked, and his glasses sat askew on his face. Patton set the plate of eggs, toast, and bacon to Logan’s left in Roman’s usual spot. He offered Logan a wide but noticeably fake smile before walking over to the fridge.

“Roman should be down any minute,” Patton commented.

Virgil scoffed, “You know it takes him forever to get down here.”

Again Logan’s hand shook. He swallowed another sip of coffee. If Virgil’s eyes remained blank in the waking world, would that mean Roman-

Logan shook his head. He wanted desperately to make sure Roman was okay, to barge into his room and convince himself Roman was sound asleep, not dead on his bed, and yet he dreaded it.

How would he live with himself if he found out Roman had actually-

No, he couldn't think like that. There was no way Roman could die. They weren’t real. They couldn't die a human death. They couldn’t.

Could they?

He looked up at Virgil, whose head turned in his direction. His gaze might be blank, but Logan knew Virgil could sense what he was thinking. How anxious he was.

“Is something wrong?” Virgil asked. Patton stiffened at the fridge.

“I-”

“I’m worried,” Logan replied, and Patton turned, his eyes wide. “I’m worried my nightmare from last night transpired into reality.”

“What happened?” Patton asked and abandoned the fridge. He sat across from Logan, who really didn’t want to look him in the eye right now. What would he say? What would he do? Logan took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

 

“I had another nightmare last night. At first, Virgil, you were there.” Virgil rose a brow. “You… you tried to drown me-”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed. Logan could see the “how” sitting on his lips.

“-with fear.”

Virgil’s eyebrows sailed to his hairline. Patton’s jaw dropped in a gasp, and he covered his mouth.

Logan sighed and continued, “The non-Newtonian fluid nearly choked me, but somehow my door opened and I escaped. That’s when I heard Roman putting on a dream for Thomas.” He paused. “I entered, and we were in the theater. I tried calling out to him, but he was so busy, so wrapped up in his nonsensical fantasy, and I got so... so angry.”

The description of his emotion caught Patton off guard. He clenched and unclenched his hands, and Logan leaned back in his seat. 

“I-I-” Logan stammered, “I don’t even know why. But then these black webs spirited him away down the hall, and they materialized into this nightmarish creature. If I had my glasses on, I could give a better description. All I remember were pointed teeth. And then-”

A creak from the stairs caught Logan’s attention. He turned his head around and held his breath. Creak. Was it the creature? Was it returning to flash that ghastly smile and have Logan suffer the same fate?

No, it wasn’t real. It wasn’t-

“Roman,” Patton greeted with the sigh of relief Logan wanted to give, “good morning!”

Roman approached them, a wide smile on his face and posture held high. Logan stared at his neck. No line. No blood. And most importantly, he was alive. 

Roman walked past them and looked in the fridge. He dug around and pulled out the carton of orange juice.

“Sorry, kiddo, I would’ve had it ready for you. But I got-” he looked at Logan- “sidetracked.”

Roman held up his hand and shook his head. He sat down at the table and poured himself a glass. Patton went back to making breakfast, a lighter air about him.

Virgil hummed. “You’re awful quiet this morning.”

Roman’s eyes glanced up at him. Logan noted how they narrowed, and he set the carton down.

“What, no snarky comeback?” Virgil asked with a breath filled laugh.

Roman stared down at his food, his eyebrows nearly touching. Logan watched the bite of his lips, how his finger tapped on the table, and how strained Roman’s breathing was.

“Roman,” Logan spoke, and his target jumped, “is something wrong?”

Roman looked up and smiled. He barely shook his head no. A pinch of pain showed itself but Roman concealed it quickly behind another confident smile. He looked down at his food once again.

“Roman, let me see your neck,” Logan spoke. Virgil narrowed his eyes as Patton rose his brow. Roman sat back in his chair, his smile sinking into a deep frown.

Logan stood, and Roman matched him. His form got rigid; he swallowed, flinched, and vaguely shook his head no again.

“What happened?” Patton asked as he glanced between the two of them.

Logan took a step forward, and Roman took one back. His hand went to his side, gripping onto the sword. Logan froze. He met Roman’s eyes again; his gaze dared Logan to come forward.

“No fighting in the kitchen,” Patton stepped between the two of them. He looked from Logan to Roman, a tender look of concern molded onto his face. “Roman, please, we just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Roman swallowed hard. Painfully. He set his jaw and took in a raspy deep breath. 

“Please,” Logan spoke. “Please, Roman, I need to know. I need to see for myself you’re okay.”

The response softened Roman’s scowl. He dropped his head, his eyes at war with his thoughts. Logan took slow, calculated steps forward, passing Patton and walking into Roman’s personal space. Roman winced as he rose his head up to meet Logan’s gaze. Only this close could he see how glassy Roman’s eyes were.

Logan’s fingers hovered over Roman’s neck. He looked into Roman's eyes, asking permission. Roman closed them. He craned his neck back, his eyes screwed shut and jaw clenched as he did so.

Logan ran his fingers over Roman’s skin. Roman flinched and backed up, smashing his back into the wall. The shelf above him shook. He struggled to breathe. 

Logan rubbed the makeup between his fingers. He looked up and saw a dashed red line where his fingertips rubbed away Roman’s foundation

“I thought so,” Logan whispered.

“What?” Patton looked between the two of them. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“You covered it up, didn’t you? So we wouldn’t worry.”

Roman opened his eyes, tears breaking through. He chewed on his lip and blinked rapidly. 

“I’m sorry,” Logan spoke, his voice low. “I did this to you. I…” 

“Logan, it’s going to be okay,” Patton reassured. 

“If you saw it, you wouldn’t think it’s going to be okay.” Logan ran both hands through his hair. He paused. “Roman, can you remember the sign language Thomas has been learning.”

Roman paused and concentrated. He brought up his hand up and pointed at his sternum. His hand curved and pointed to the side of his head. After, Roman held his thumb and pointer finger an inch apart in front of his face. Both hands rose to chest level. He pointed his index fingers and spun them around each other in a circle twice.

“You know a little sign. That’s good,” Logan finished.

“But I don’t,” Patton whined. He snapped his fingers. “We could always get him the whiteboard, ya know, for when Virgil’s too anxious to speak.”

Roman rolled his eyes, his lips curled into a disgusted frown. Patton already walked to the drawers and dug around. He pulled out a smudged whiteboard, cleaned it with his wrist, and grabbed the purple marker accompanying it.

Roman glanced down at the board as Patton held it to him. He lightly shook his head.

“You don’t want it?” Patton asked. 

“Too proud, probably,” Virgil remarked, “or too stubborn.”

Roman made a gesture everyone understood. Patton gasped and slapped Roman’s wrist. Roman’s lips opened to cry out, but no sound accompanied it. He massaged his wrist as his face scrunched up.

“Serves you right,” Patton mumbled. “I told you I’d fight you.”

Logan folded his arms. “I need to get back to the library and search for answers.”

Roman crossed his index and middle fingers, pointed them at each other, and then separated them in a straight line.

“You are not going,” Logan responded. Roman scowled and stomped his foot. “Throw a fit all you want. If you get lost, there’s no way I can find you.” He turned to Patton, who stared down at intertwining fingers.

“Logan-”

“You can come,” Logan responded, “if you feel comfortable leaving these two on their own with no way of communicating.”

“We’ll be fine,” Virgil responded. “I might actually enjoy being with him for once.”

Patton sighed and rubbed his neck. He looked over at Roman. Roman signed the letters O and K with a wink; that one Patton understood. He beamed and nodded his head.

Logan cleared his throat. 

“Then let’s get going. We’re wasting time.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to get serious and stop messing around. Logan needs answers, but feelings keep getting in the way.  
> \--  
> Chapter Warnings: Arguments, minor body horror (dislocated joints)  
> Word Count: 2066

Once again, the two sides stepped into Logan’s library. The music, Logan noted, started at Ludwig van Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. How comforting. He walked into the tower of bookshelves and looked around.

“Would you, perhaps, like to look through the psychology or medical sections since theology sidetracked you last time?” Logan asked.

“Well,” Patton responded and tapped his chin. “You said you didn’t see anything in medical, and I trust you, so maybe I’ll look through psychology. I don’t know how far Roman got.”

“Sounds fair,” Logan responded. He led Patton through the halls of the library. Logan noted as he walked certain shelves had large gaps in them. How peculiar. He always finished shelves before going to the next one.

Was someone other than them in his library?

Logan’s neck hairs bristled. He stopped and turned. Patton ran into him, but Logan didn’t move.

“Everything okay, kiddo?” Patton asked and placed his glasses back in their rightful spot.

Logan moved his eyes around, studying every shadow, every crevice, and every bookend. He swallowed before responding, “No, everything’s fine.”

“Don’t lie.”

Logan glanced out of the corner of his eye. Patton stared back at him, his lip pulled into a tight line.

Logan ignored him and continued forward. Patton followed soon after. They walked through a maze of bookshelves buried deep in Logan’s library. Eventually, they came across a wall of books, all labeled under psychology. 

“If you need anything, give my name a call,” Logan informed. He turned on his heel to walk away.

“Logan,” Patton called out. Logan turned to face him. “Good luck.”

Logan smiled and replied, “Best wishes to you as well, Patton.” He walked through the shelves again as Patton began sifting through the books.

Logan wandered back to the medical section. He still had a few books to go through before he felt confident enough saying he looked through everything.

Book by book, Logan piled up a plethora of information to discover. He sat at his desk and flipped through page after page. Each book proved useless. Logan’s frustration manifested as clenched teeth and heavy sighing. 

Open. Read. Flip. Close.

Logan’s eyes burned as he repeated the process. He yawned and stretched. The nightmares still wrecked the sleeping patterns necessary for a good night’s rest. He leaned on the palm of his hand as his eyes drooped.

How did he end up on a page for iodine? Logan hummed. Wait, according to this, povidone-iodine was being tested for treating blindness. Perhaps if they used it on Virgil’s eyes, the black slime would disappear. Logan hummed as he read through the brief knowledge Thomas picked up from school. 

That explained how to get rid of it, but what caused it?

Oh, this section talked about the effects of lack of R.E.M. sleep. How lovely.

Logan yawned and skipped through. He knew the effects through experience. His world tilted forward. He stopped his head from banging off the book. Logan rubbed his eyes and took in deep breaths.

Awake. He had to stay awake. 

Logan brushed a hand over his face. Wait. He looked at his fingers and blinked several times. A faint black stain rested on the tips like someone dyed his fingers. He squinted. How did they turn black? The only time he touched anything black was in his dreams, but he was awake right now. Wasn’t he?

Logan shook his head and went back to reading. This lack of sleep was really starting to mess with him. He yawned several times on his journey. His eyes begged for rest, but he knew he couldn’t stop. Virgil was counting on him. Roman was counting on him. Patton was counting on him.

Well, Patton was helping him. He should be thankful these dreams left Patton alone. Still, he could see how each misfortune falling upon the sides wore Patton down. He may not be affected by the nightmares, but he was sure living in one. 

Logan yawned again. Sleep, his mind begged. Sleep and continue when you are well rested. 

Maybe… Maybe he could rest for just a moment…

Logan’s breaths evened out. He set his forehead on the book in front of him, welcoming the break from reality for a little while. The music lulled his senses.

For the first time in a week, Logan felt at peace.

At least he did until he woke himself up with a snore. Logan groaned and rubbed his face on the book. Somehow he felt worse. Of course, a nap’s usefulness rested on how much sleep one acquired. He’d have to sleep for three days to catch up at this point.

As he sat up, a blanket slid off his shoulders. That’s odd; he didn’t remember putting that there. He looked at the stitching. Patton’s name shown on the tag next to a drawn heart. 

Logan felt a warmth spread through his stomach. Patton must’ve come looking for him and saw Logan asleep. He was always watching out for them, even if he didn’t look like it.

This made Logan think of the way he reprimanded Patton for bringing up the theology book. Logan sighed. He recalled Patton had a weird way of showing his intelligence. Getting bored could’ve been Logan’s room affecting him and dulling his emotions.

Perhaps there was something useful in that book after all.

Logan made his way back to the theology section. The familiar bean bag nestled in the corner greeted him. Logan hadn’t been in this corner of the library since Thomas stopped going to Sunday school. Occasionally, a friend would inform Thomas about something important in their religion, and more books would fill the blank space. However, Logan only opened them when he needed guidance from an outsider’s point of view.

One should seek knowledge to protect themselves after all.

Logan looked through the series of books on the wall, some with a thick coat of dust on them. He picked out a few that resembled the cover of Patton’s book, but none of them matched. Logan sighed in frustration. Where did it go? What was it called? Something about disappearing gods, right? He searched high and low, yet there was no book that resembled the one Patton picked out.

Did Patton take it with him? Logan groaned. He didn’t like books leaving his study. 

“Patton?” Logan called out. He waited.

“I’m in the psychology section,” Patton’s voice echoed around the shelves.

Still? 

Logan walked back through the library, the music changing over to Camille Saint-Saëns’s Danse Macabre. Logan noted how the tune echoed. In fact, this was a rather lively song, something Logan wouldn’t necessarily call study music. It was more imagination inducing than anything.

The shelves wound around themselves until Logan came to the familiar clearing of the psychology section. Patton sat curled up in the corner, thumbing through one of the books. Several books lay scattered across the floor, some open and others closed. Some were stacked two to three books high. 

The lack of organization struck a sour chord in Logan. He began picking up a few and setting them on the table.

The Future of Nostalgia, Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy, and Art & Fear were some of the titles he picked up. 

Was Patton only looking through books that interested him again? Logan felt that familiar burn in his gut. Here he was wasting time-

“Oh, Logan,” Patton looked up and smiled. He closed the book in his hands, stood up, and bounced toward him. “Do you feel any better?”

Logan set his jaw. Patton’s smile faded.

“What’s wrong, kiddo?”

“Multiple things,” Logan growled. “You do realize we are trying to save our friends, do you not?”

“Well, yeah,” Patton replied and twisted the book in his hands. “That’s why I’m looking through a book about how stress affects your thoughts. Maybe if we figure out why you’re feeling like this-”

“Feeling like what, Patton?” Logan snapped. Patton took a step back. 

“I don’t know,” Patton whimpered. “You… you’ve been so off lately. You haven’t been thinking or acting like yourself. I’m starting to get worried.”

“You want to know what has me off?” Logan shouted, taking a step forward. Patton took another step back, his eyes locked onto Logan. “These sleepless nights have me losing my mind! Virgil’s constant worrying. Roman’s need to check social media likes. Your obsessive impulse to be there for Thomas’s friends at any time of the day, even if it means putting Thomas’s health at risk.”

“Logan, you’re-”

“These feelings you three obsess over are keeping me and Thomas awake,” Logan continued. “You know what happens to the body if it loses sleep? It becomes irritable, unable to focus, and illogical. It sees things that aren’t there-”

“Logan-”

“-so by that logic, if you disappear, my problems will all be solved. If you're not going to help-”

“Logan!”

Patton’s back hit the wall. Logan’s shadow blocked all light from Patton’s face. Logan saw his anger reflected in Patton’s wide eyes, eyes ready to spill tears. 

“This isn't you,” Patton spoke. “Logan, think about what you're saying. Think about what you're doing. You don't have to- you have a choice.”

“I've made my choice.”

Patton’s face twisted in anger. “Is it yours, or is it someone else's?”

The odd expression reset Logan’s thoughts. Patton reserved his anger for those who were doing wrong. But that was impossible. Logan’s logic was always right. His head pounded, and he rubbed his temples. His forehead was damp. He squeezed his eyes shut and urged his headache to disappear.

“Logan,” Patton’s voice was soft, “I can help you.”

Logan opened his eyes. Patton reached out to him, his fingers hovering over Logan’s shoulders, asking permission to touch. He held Logan’s gaze and smiled. 

“It's going to be okay, kiddo.”

Logan smacked Patton’s hand away. He ignored the hurt on Patton’s face. He didn't have time for this! They had things to figure out. They had people to help. Didn't that matter? Didn't he care? Logan’s stomach twisted into knots. His senses overloaded with only one thought on his mind. 

“Logan-”

“Leave me alone, Patton!”

A black hole opened under Patton’s feet. Patton screamed as he sunk down. Logan held his breath and grabbed onto Patton’s wrists. He stood his ground and pulled. The darkness sucked Patton down at equal strength, holding them at a stalemate.

“Logan-”

“It’s okay, Patton,” Logan said through clenched teeth. “I won’t let you go.”

Black trails of slime slithered up Patton’s torso. He looked down and gasped. Logan's body inch forward as it sucked Patton down deeper. The hole was up to Patton’s chest now and still sucking him down.

“Logan,” Patton cried out. “Logan, please!”

“I’m trying,” Logan’s feet slid on the floor, “trust me.”

“I trust you."

How could he be so stupid? How did he not recognize his behavior and regulate it?

Patton’s shoulder cracked, and he screamed as his right arm separated from its socket. The shock slacked Logan’s grip enough for Patton to sink faster. Logan realized his mistake too late, and the sludge almost swallowed Patton whole. Patton half screamed, half struggled to breathe. His head barely surfaced. 

Tears came to Logan’s eyes. He didn’t know what to do, and Patton’s eyes pleaded the words Logan knew he couldn’t say. 

The black liquid grew and swallowed Patton up to his wrists, right to the spot Logan held. It yanked, and Logan fell to his knees. He felt Patton’s nails dig into his wrist. Logan ground his teeth and kept his scream in place. After a few seconds, Patton’s fingers released. Logan tried to keep hold. His grip slipped, and Logan flew backward, hitting his head hard off the table behind him. 

Spots danced in Logan’s vision before he felt nothing at all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan needs to face whatever this thing is head-on. Patton's counting on him.  
> \--  
> Chapter warnings: Intrusive thoughts, Self-doubt, Self-depreciation, Lying, Mild violence (but it's nothing compared to the other stuff)  
> Word count: 2258

The next time Logan awoke, he had a book stuck to his face. 

“Patton?” He mumbled. His throat felt like a thousand needles pierced it. He looked around and realized he was still in the medical section. That’s right, he fell asleep. He dreamed- 

Logan shot up from his spot at the desk. 

“Patton!” 

Instead of Patton’s voice, a laugh echoed through Logan’s library.

“Feelings are illogical,” his distorted voice coated the air, dripping with venom.

Logan’s eyes widened. His dream… he dreamed… what did he just do? What did he do to Patton? Logan’s heart rate spiked. There was nothing beneath his library- nowhere for Patton to reemerge-

He wanted Patton to disappear. What if he was gone for good?

Logan slipped on a book as he ran through his library. The once friendly shelves loomed over him, throwing his footsteps around like crumpled paper. Logan slammed his library doors shut and exited his room. He hastened down the stairs and grabbed the rail to propel himself around the corner.

“What’s your hurry?” Virgil asked as he turned his head toward Logan.

Logan leaned in the doorway and tried to catch his breath. Roman rose to his feet. He looked around and back at Logan, a quizzical expression on his face. HIs index finger pointed up to the ceiling, palm facing Logan, and his hand waved back and forth quickly, followed by him spelling out a name.

Where is Patton?

Logan ran a hand through his hair.

“I think I had another nightmare.”

Roman’s eyes widened as his face reddened. He soared over the table and lunged at Logan. Logan cried out as Roman tackled him to the ground and drew his sword. He pinned it at Logan’s neck. Logan swallowed and felt the blade nick him.

“Roman, what is going on?” Logan yelled. Roman’s eyes glared at him, fiercer than Logan ever faced. 

Virgil rose from the table, his breathing heavy. “Roman, whatever you’re doing, stop it! This isn’t helping.”

Roman continued to stare at Logan, his blade forced upon him. Logan eased his breathing and kept eye contact. He placed his hand on Roman’s wrist and gave a gentle squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I… It’s my fault Patton’s gone. I lost control. I-”

“What happened,” Virgil asked.

“I wished Patton away, and now he’s gone! How could I do that?”

“Okay, deep breaths,” Virgil responded. He swallowed. “Patton wouldn't just disappear-”

“He didn’t just disappear,” Logan explained. “He descended through a hole in the floor. There’s nothing under my library, no room or crevice to pass into. He’s just… gone.” He caught Roman’s eye and took in a breath. “That’s the truth, Roman. You know I would never harm Patton.”

Roman considered Logan’s words before his sword eased up. He put it beside Logan’s head and looked away, his lips pulled into a frustrated line. Logan rubbed the spot on his neck as Roman stood and paced back and forth, each time trying to sign something, but stopping mid-movement. He clenched his teeth. Roman reached over, grabbed the whiteboard he discarded, and scribbled on it.

Logan read aloud, “Where were we?” He dry laughed. “The library, but I fail to see why that matters.”

Roman grimaced. He erased the purple marker with his sleeve and began writing again.

“Suppressed?”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Logan, your library is like Thomas’s memory, right?”

“Essentially,” Logan answered. His eyes widened. “You think I buried Patton deep within the subconscious?”

“If something traumatic happens, sometimes the brain locks the memory away,” Virgil explained. “You can’t remember it even if you try. Well, not unless something triggers it, like a strong feeling or a smell or something.”

Roman plopped his fist into his other hand, his lips drawn in a tight line. He wrote on the board again.

So how do we get there?

Logan spoke, “Virgil, you’ve been buried in the subconscious. How did you get out?”

Virgil swallowed and rubbed his arms. “Well, it’s not so much you get out as you’re recognized by Thomas himself. He has to pull you out of the subconscious.”

“So we go and talk to him.”

“You really think Thomas will want to see us in the state we’re in?” Virgil questioned. “We’ll scar him for life.”

Roman tapped his marker on the table twice. Both boys looked in his direction. He held up a prewritten board.

“I’m not banishing you to the subconscious to go get him,” Logan replied. Roman grimaced and erased the words with his sleeve. He started writing again. “I’m not banishing Virgil either.” Roman stopped writing.

Virgil grumbled, “Why don’t you go get him? You sent him there.”

“Perhaps I should.”

Virgil’s eyes widened as he spoke, “Wait, Logan, I didn’t mean-”

“No, it makes perfect sense,” Logan said as he folded his arms. “I’m the one who put him there. I’m the one who should get him back.”

Roman looked over at Virgil, who seemed to lose his words. He scribbled down on his board once again and showed it. 

How?

Logan responded, “The library is in my room. I should be capable to do anything I desire as long as it’s logical.”

Roman rubbed his hand down his face and covered his mouth. 

“And what happens if we lose you, too?” Virgil asked. “Then what?”

Roman pointed his thumb at Virgil and nodded his head in agreement.

“It’s not that hard to seek knowledge.” Logan sighed and continued, “My mind is made up. I’m going to get him.”

Roman hesitated before writing ‘be safe’ on the board. 

“Logan, please be careful,” Virgil warned. “There’s something very wrong going on here, and I’m not sure you’ll like the answer.”

“I’ll be fine,” Logan replied. He said goodbye to the both of them before returning to the depths of his library.

The music sent chills down his spine as a haunting piano cover of ‘What’s the Use of Feeling Blue’ echoed through the corridor. Logan noted the irony. He used the piece to focus on studying when he couldn’t think straight, but now it served as an unnerving reminder of what he’d done.

He stopped at the opening of the psychology area. Several books were missing from the ledges. Logan remembered the books Patton looked through in his dream and searched. None of them appeared.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Logan grumbled. Why was he forgetting all the information Patton pointed out.

“Because I thought it was irrelevant,” Logan concluded aloud. “Because I said it didn’t matter, I erased it from Thomas’s memory. Just like-” His voice caught in his throat.

Logan walked over to the last spot Patton stood. He ghosted his fingers over the wooden floor beneath him. How was he going to push himself out of Thomas’s conscious mind, and what would happen to the library if he did? Would it disappear? Would everything in Thomas’s memory disappear, like the books?

Suddenly his plan didn’t seem so logical.

Logan groaned and rubbed his arms. There had to be some way to get Patton back. 

A shadow moved in Logan’s vision, and his blood ran cold. He spun around, but nothing appeared. He took a deep breath.

“I know you’re here,” Logan called out.

He waited. A cool draft from the library’s vents answered, but nothing else moved. Logan grew frustrated. Something was here with him. Something was moving books in his library. 

“Whoever’s here messing with my mind, I’d appreciate it if you’d stop!”

A thick wet pop sounded behind him. Logan spun as a dark figure rose from the floor where Patton vanished. It meshed itself into a familiar shape with sharp white teeth and golden eyes. 

Logan’s stomach dropped. He lost his balance and gripped onto the table behind him. The creature stared back; its skin slid and oozed but never lost form.

“What kind of trick is this?” Logan mumbled.

“Trick?” the creature hissed. It narrowed its eyes. “I’m nothing more than an astral projection of Thomas’s mind, Logan, the same as you.”

“Then how come I’ve never met you before?”

The creature hummed. “I only show myself when I want to. If I don’t want someone to see me, I project myself through one of you, usually Virgil.”

“Then why do you look like-”

“You?” The creature laughed. “Because I am nothing more than a thought. A dark thought that pops up in Thomas’s mind. Usually, Virgil has the weakest mind of you four, and it’s easiest to present myself through him, but you’ve been losing grip as Thomas loses sleep. It was easy to slip myself in your mind. Twist your thoughts. Make you think and do things you would never think of, and oh boy, do you think some messed up things.”

“So, you’re what’s causing my nightmares.”

The creature circled around Logan. 

“I watched you long enough. You started blaming the other sides for your problems, and that was easy to feed off of. For someone who hates emotions, you sure do have some strong ones.”

“I don’t hate-” Logan paused. He thought about his feelings towards the others the past few days. They were anything but positive.

“Those so-called dreams you’ve been having are your own thoughts and actions,” the creature growled. “You chose those things to happen.”

The shadow materialized a book from the slime. Logan recognized that purple starburst and monochrome gradient. It flipped through the pages and hummed.

“Don't look at the truth; otherwise your God will be dead and your heaven and hell will disappear.” The creature sighed. “Virgil knows me well. If he knew I was snooping around inside your mind, he would have warned you easily.”

“So you took his sight?”

“No, you did.” 

“I never-”

“Why do you think your hands are stained black?”

Logan’s eyes widened. He looked down at his hands, and the dark skin stared back. No, he couldn’t have. How could he? What would he use? He couldn’t have-

“Don't speak the truth, otherwise you will be condemned, crucified, poisoned, tortured by the whole crowd, the unconscious people.”

Logan recalled the night Roman had his throat cut open. He was trying to ease Thomas’s mind. He was trying to make him think better thoughts, and Logan stopped him.

Worse, when Logan tried to help him, Roman told him to stop. Roman was afraid of him. That's why he was so distant. That’s why… that’s why he attacked him at the table. 

“Keep your pleasures, your joys, hidden. Don't let anybody know that you are a cheerful man, a blissful man, an ecstatic man, because that will destroy your very life.”

Logan balled his hands into fists. “Where is Patton?”

“Suddenly so concerned. I thought you wanted Patton to disappear?”

Logan swallowed hard. He narrowed his eyes. “No, you wanted Patton to disappear. You’re the one that caused his disappearance.”

“Did I?” The creature took a step forward. “Are you sure, Logan?”

Logan swallowed. Was he sure? What if he did do all those things? What if his mind disassociated from those actions because he believed he’d never do such a thing. Because he didn’t want to believe it? What if he buried these memories deep in the subconscious? Logan backed up. He covered his ears and stared down at the floor.

What if he was the one who poisoned Virgil’s eyes? What if he was the one who slit Roman’s throat? What if he was the one who banished Patton?

Patton’s voice echoed in his mind, “I trust you.”

Patton. Patton knew something was wrong. Patton made him aware of what he was doing. Even after all that, after he yelled at him in the library, after he berated him and turned him away, Patton still believed in him. He knew there was good. If he got through to Logan and was able to stop those thoughts… wouldn’t the creature try to get rid of him?

Suddenly Logan’s mind cleared. It wasn’t him. It was that thing. That thing did this to all his friends, and he was sure of it. Logan clenched his teeth and stared it in the eye. He swallowed hard as its smile snaked across its face.

“I’m positive,” Logan answered, “that it was you making me do all those things because I would never hurt my… family like that.”

The creature’s smile faltered. It reached out and grabbed Logan’s wrist. Logan tried to pull back, but the slime swallowed his hand and traveled up his arm. 

“You want to find Patton?” the creature hissed. “I’ll show you where he is, then you’ll see how cruel you really are.”

Again, Logan found himself at the mercy of the black slime. He looked up at the creature. Its teeth glistened in the library light, sharp and dripping.

It spoke, “Don't listen to the truth because it will disturb all your consoling lies.”

Logan took one last breath before the slime consumed him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not just Patton Logan's going to find buried deep in the subconscious. What you don't know can't hurt you...  
> \--  
> Chapter warnings: Gaslighting, Physical manipulation, Intrusive thoughts, Minor body horror (displaced bones)  
> Word count: 1873

Logan shivered as he woke on a hard floor. His body ached when he tossed to the side. The black sludge rested below him, soaking his clothes. He sat up and blinked. Why was everything fuzzy? Logan spied his glasses to his left and slipped them on.

Books surrounded him on every side. Some of the covers were stained black, while others had pages warped and dyed a dark color. 

Where was he?

Logan looked around. He was in a spotlight, and the surrounding area was darker than Logan could see through. He stood and straightened his tie. 

That creature was nowhere to be found.

“Hello?” He called out. His voice echoed through the void. He took a step forward. The spotlight moved with him, illuminating a white tiled floor. Logan continued forward, his eyes on the ground. More books lay scattered across the floor. He recognized one as a book Patton pulled out and set on the floor. Patton.

“Patton!” Logan called out. His echo answered him. Logan’s heart raced, and he picked up speed. Was he headed in the right direction? His fast pace turned into a run until his foot kicked a plastic bottle. A black liquid danced across the floor, and the bottle swiveled away.

Logan stopped. He followed the black trail and stared at the half empty bottle. Delicate fingers picked it up and examined it. Wait, he recognized this. It was his shoe polisher, a dye to erase scuff marks from his black shoes, and it was coated with black fingerprints. His fingerprints.

Logan swallowed. He put the dye down and wiped his fingers off on his shirt, the dye staining his fingers a darker black.

A white paper lay beside the bottle. Judging by the jagged edges, it was ripped from a book. Black fingerprints coated it as well. Logan picked it up and examined its words. 

‘-has to stop. There's only one logical way. If Virgil wouldn't convince himself he was being illogical, I would have to do it for him.’

Logan read farther and shivered. It sounded like things he would say, but the writing was wrong. It shook and looped around like snakes waiting to strike. 

More pages lay under it, only these were covered in blood. Blood and black spots. 

‘True, Roman gives Thomas wonderful dreams, and I would miss his adventures dearly, but if these illogical thoughts of fame and glory kept us awake, it was more sensible to rid the problem instead of correcting it. Roman is stubborn and refused to listen to reason. Perhaps it was time to silence his thirst for adoration. It knew Roman would be performing late at night when the others were asleep and couldn't stop me. That was my chance to strike-’

Logan’s hands shook. Who wrote this? It felt so familiar, yet Logan didn't recall ever documenting these events. Was it the creature's words? Was this what it made him do-

Logan shook his head. Keep on task. He had to find Patton. 

Logan discarded the papers and moved more cautiously through the dark. He looked around, but nothing else stuck out to him. He still had no idea where he was or where he was going.

“Patton!” He called out again. His echo bounced around and sang its lonely song.

Logan’s chest began to ache. He swallowed and rubbed warmth back into his arms. What if this was a trick? What if Patton really was gone? What if-

“Logan?”

Patton’s voice, weak but there, cut through the darkness. Logan’s heart jumped.

“Patton, where are you?”

He held his breath. At first, only his echo answered. Logan swallowed. No, Patton, come on. Speak out. 

“I,” Patton’s voice whined in pain, “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay. I’m going to find you. Keep talking to me,” Logan called out. He walked forward. Patton’s sharp breaths echoed throughout the room and dulled Logan’s sense of direction. He swallowed. “Patton, I need you to keep talking, please.”

For a while, Logan’s breathing was the only comforting sound.

“I’m sorry.”

Logan choked back a laugh. 

“For what?”

“I couldn’t help you.”

“Patton, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I could see him, Logan. I saw him moving your arms. Moving your mouth. But I didn’t do anything.”

“You mean that creature,” Logan spoke. He noticed Patton’s voice moved farther away. He turned to his right. “I’m sure you did everything you could. If anyone should be apologizing, I should be apologizing to you.”

“I know it’s not your fault,” Patton answered. His voice grew closer. “You’re a good person, Logan. You’d never hurt any of us on purpose.”

“But I did. Intentions are irrelevant. I hurt you, Patton. I hurt all of you, and for that I am sorry.”

“I forgive you.”

Logan saw a silver table come into view. He quickened his pace. Patton laid on an operating table of sorts, his legs, waist, wrists, and shoulders pinned down by black straps. Logan hurried to his side. Patton’s head turned to him, his eyes barely focusing. He smiled, weak but pure, and took in a shaky breath.

“Hey there, kiddo.”

Logan half laughed, half choked. He ran a hand through Patton’s hair, his forehead burning Logan’s frigid fingers. From here, he could see the unnatural angle Patton’s right shoulder bent, still severed from when he tried to pull him out of that creature’s grasp.

“Hold on, I’m going to get you out of here,” Logan informed. His fingers ran down the sides of the straps looking for any sort of release mechanism. He noted the way the straps dripped onto the floor, moving like a liquid. He grabbed onto the black straps and pulled. The liquid turned to a solid and held fast, no matter which way he tugged it. Again and again, he yanked, pulled, and tried to separate the straps. 

“Logan-”

“Hold on, Patton. I've almost done it. It’s going to be alright.”

“Don’t lie.”

Logan looked up, and Patton's eyes focused on him. His lips drew into a weak frown. Logan swallowed hard. Patton forced an understanding smile and blinked his eyes rapidly.

“I thought I taught you better than that,” Patton said with a light laugh. He clenched his jaw shut and squeezed his eyes.

Logan felt his eyes tear up. He wiped them away quickly.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Patton said with a sigh. “I trust you. You can figure this out.”

“Can he?” 

Logan spun around as the shadow creature slithered into view. He stood in front of Patton, doing his best to protect him from its gaze. The creature grinned. It tilted its head to the left, its golden eyes trained on Logan.

“Let him go,” Logan growled. 

“You let him go,” it snarked. “You put him here.”

“You cannot confuse me. I see through your tricks.”

The creature took a step forward. Its grin slid open to speak, “What tricks? I haven't made you do anything you haven't thought of.”

Logan felt fingers brush up against his hand. He glanced back and saw Patton’s fingers attempting to weave through his in silent support. He grabbed on and leaned backward.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“My friend, it’s not me you should be afraid of. It’s yourself.”

The creature stood inches from Logan’s face now, its breath sour. Logan held his own and swallowed thickly. 

“Don’t you remember how Virgil lost his sight? You got tired of him being afraid of every little thing he saw, so you sought to remedy it. Late at night, while he was in the kitchen with coffee, you took black shoe polish and went to talk to him. He was so happy to see you until you squirted it all over his eyes.”

“No-”

“Yes. I watched you do it. How could you forget those screams, how he begged you to stop, how he asked you why you were doing this.”

“This doesn’t make sense. Virgil would’ve told me-”

“But if you erased it from your subconscious, wouldn’t he forget too? You are the core memory after all. Shame on you for getting rid of all those books. Deleting the evidence.” It rose a hand, its finger sharpening into a claw. “Roman, on the other hand, saw through you. The memory may not have been there, but the emotion was. He didn’t know why he was afraid of you at that kitchen table, but he remembered how you made him feel.”

Logan’s eyes widened. He remembered Virgil’s words of how a certain emotion could trigger an unpleasant memory.

The creature grinned and hissed, “Is it sinking in yet, Logan? You thought you saw me holding that sword to Roman’s neck, but it wasn’t. It was you. That’s why he told you to stop, not me. And when he found out that you got rid of Patton-”

“Stop lying to him,” Patton’s voice croaked from the table. “He didn’t get rid of me.”

The creature turned his attention back to Patton, and Logan moved his arm across the table in a protective stance. 

“You still believe he’s good, after everything that’s happened? After everything he’s done?” it growled. “I’ve shown you the memories. I’ve shown you all he’s done to your friends, and yet you still take his side. How can one person be so naive to trust the person who tried taking everything away from him?”

Patton set his jaw. “Because I know the truth. I know what you do. Virgil told me about you, how you say things, horrible things, and make people think them, do them, say them. You’re an intrusive thought. It’s what you do.”

The creature narrowed its eyes, it’s teeth clenched in anger.

Patton swallowed thickly and continued, “Logan doesn’t have to listen to you. He’s stronger than you, and I’ll make sure you don’t hurt him anymore.”

Logan squeezed onto Patton’s hand tighter, silently wishing Patton would stop talking and yet thanking him for the support. 

“Well,” it sneered, “you really can do no evil, can you Patton? I should’ve gotten rid of you when I had the chance.” Its angry smile turned into a sick grin. “We’ll see who wins out, his morality or his impulse.”

Black threads danced across the floor and climbed up Logan’s legs. He inhaled sharply as they wrapped around his limbs, making it harder to move. Two trails came to his head, clinging to his jaw, covering his ears. 

“He only gets in the way,” the creature spoke, its voice mimicking Logan’s in a garbled pitch. “Wouldn’t it be better if we just got rid of all these icky feelings?”

Logan’s head turned toward Patton. The color in his eyes vanished, his iris swallowed by darkness. 

Logan’s mouth moved along with the creature’s. 

“Yes.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's see who wins, Logan's morality or his impulse.  
> \--  
> Chapter Warnings: Manipulation, Body Horror, Death mentions, Psychological torture, Blood, Gore, Torture (don't take these warnings lightly guys, please)  
> Word count: 2228

Patton’s heartbeat crescendoed. He watched Logan move with the creature, with the Intrusive Thought, and stare at him with cold, black eyes.

“No, Logan, fight it off. You can do it.”

“Logan can’t hear you right now,” the creature laughed. He slithered behind Logan’s ear and whispered, “You can do it, you know. He’s at the core of everyone’s feelings. Get rid of him, and you’ll never have to feel anything for anyone ever again.”

Logan walked away from the table. Patton kept his attention on Logan and tried to call out to him, but Logan’s attention focused on something else.

He came to a table with tools on them. With all the information he read the past two days, he could easily operate. He could easily tear out what kept Patton going and silence these confusing thoughts forever.

Logan’s fingers brushed across the tools, contemplating his weapon. His hand stopped at a long sharp blade. He picked it up and examined it with his thumb. It sliced through his skin, and he smirked as he turned. 

Patton’s eyes grew. His lips barely moved as he spoke, “Logan, put down the knife, please.”

The creature mocked Patton and laughed. It moved Logan closer, its grin never leaving its face.

Patton tried lifting his left arm, his legs, anything that would move. However, the bonds holding him refused to budge. Logan towered over him, the spotlight nearly blocking all features from his face beside his eyes. His soulless black eyes.

“Please don’t do this,” Patton whispered.

Logan’s hand lifted to Patton’s face. Patton flinched as Logan’s thumb brushed away a stray tear from his cheek. For a moment, he thought he connected. Patton’s smile grew and he leaned into Logan’s touch. 

“Come on, kiddo. I know you’re still in there.”

Logan dragged his finger down the front of Patton’s shirt and hovered at the base. Patton furrowed his brow in confusion. Logan’s cold fingers brushed against Patton’s skin and made him shudder. He lifted up Patton’s shirt and revealed a rapidly rising and falling chest. 

“Logan, no,” Patton choked as tears blurred his vision. 

“Logan, yes,” the creature hissed. 

Logan placed the blade at Patton’s navel. The point bit in, and Patton let out a low hiss. He slid it across the skin, leaving a steady red line in its wake. 

Patton swallowed the scream in his throat. He clenched his hands and held his breath. 

The blade stopped at Patton’s collarbone and lifted. Patton released a yelp as his mouth finally caught up with his brain. The outcry froze Logan for a moment, his eyes going from Patton’s chest to his eyes.

Logan backed up. His black eyes locked on to Patton, and his mouth floundered. For a moment, his breathing synced with Patton’s. 

Patton rested his head on the medal table, sweat soaking his face as much as his tears. He stared at the ceiling, his gaze switching between focused and unfocused. Blood oozed from the open wound on his chest and dripped over the sides. The once silver table soon glinted crimson.

“A-are you sure you really want this?” Patton mumbled. His head flopped over to the side, searching for Logan.

Logan swallowed hard. This… this wasn’t right. Something was wrong. He shouldn’t… he shouldn’t be doing this. What was he thinking? He was-

“Don’t forget,” the creature hissed in his ear once again, “he’ll say anything to stop the pain. You can’t listen to him. You know what you have to do.”

He gripped the knife tighter in his hand. Slowly. Step by step, he came back to the table, and Patton’s eyes continued to follow him. They were almost as lifeless as Logan’s own black eyes.

Logan took in a deep breath and answered Patton’s question, “I’m sure.”

His fingers reached down and separated Patton’s skin. He ignored the onslaught of cries from Patton and exposed the breastbone. His blade came down again, sawing. Separating. Tearing the breastbone open.

“There it is,” the creature hissed. “The source of all your problems.”

Logan reached in and pushed tissue, blood, and bone out of the way. His fingers squeezed around Patton’s heart. It twitched in his hands, struggling to free itself. Logan looked up at Patton. The shock must’ve caused him to lose consciousness. 

The creature released itself from Logan’s ears, allowing him to hear the rapid beat of Patton’s heart. Logan’s breath caught as he stared at it. 

“You see?” the creature taunted. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Logan’s breathing quickened. His eyes widened in shock, and his mouth moved, but no words came out.

“Do it,” the creature ordered. “Sever the aorta and stop these useless feelings from clouding your judgment ever again.”

Logan pulled Patton’s heart closer, noting the dull but even beats between his fingers. He spied the aorta, the main artery of the heart, and hovered his blade over it. His hands trembled. Sweat escaped his brow and slid down his face.

He could hear Patton’s heart calling out to him, whispering sweet words. Urging him to do the right thing. He still trusted him.

“What are you waiting for?” The creature’s patience thinned. “Kill him already.”

Logan’s eyes stared at Patton’s heart. He set his jaw, his breathing as shaky as his hands. 

His blade lifted away from Patton’s heart, and the creature put its hand on Logan’s wrist, pushing him closer. Pushing Patton closer to death. Logan’s arm struggled to keep it airborne and away from Patton’s heart. He swallowed and opened his jaw.

“No, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, and you will.”

No, this was wrong. This wasn’t the right way to go about this. He could talk to them. He could use his logic to make the others listen. He didn’t need to use force. He didn’t need to hurt them. He didn’t need-

The blade nicked Patton’s heart, and blood splattered on Logan’s face, shocking his body. He backed into the table of tools. Several of the creature's black threads snapped as he fell. The tools clattered to the floor and scattered.

“Good. Stay there, and Patton will kill himself for you.”

Logan rose to his feet. He staggered over to Patton and gagged. Blood pooled in Patton’s chest. He had to stop the bleeding. He had to fix the tear, or else-

Logan placed a finger over the wound and silenced the bleeding. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat and took a deep breath. How long did it take for a severed artery in the heart to clot?

The creature laughed. “You can’t save him, Logan. Don’t even try. It’s your fault he’s dying. Just accept it.”

“Falsehood,” Logan mumbled under his breath.

 

“You’re wasting your time,” the creature growled. “You can’t help him. You can’t save him.”

“I can, and I will,” Logan shouted. The creature again surrounded Logan with black strings, freezing his muscles.

“No, you won’t.” 

It drew Logan’s arm backward, releasing the pressure on Patton’s heart. Blood again pumped out, its intensity even with Patton’s dying heart. Logan’s feet slid on the floor as the creature dragged him away.

“Yes,” Logan pulled. His muscles strained against the black strings. “Yes, I will. You can’t control me anymore.”

More and more strings surrounded Logan. Freezing. Pulling. Stopping him in his tracks. Logan tried biting through them, separating a few. Still, the creature held on.

“You’re too weak, don’t you see? You need me to guide you-”

“No,” Logan replied. “I don’t need you. You are an illogical thought that makes good people do bad things.”

Logan spotted a tool on the floor. He swallowed thickly. If this failed, he and Patton were both done for. However, if he succeeded-

Logan dropped down. He grabbed the discarded blade, the one still covered in Patton’s own blood, and aimed it over his stomach. He twisted it on top of his shirt, slicing through the material and into his skin.

“What are you doing?” the creature screamed.

“You cannot control a host if there is no host to control,” Logan answered. “I refuse to be your puppet any longer.”

He pushed deeper, and his blood soaked his black shirt. His vision blurred from the rush of pain, but he had to keep pushing. He had to keep fighting.

“You’re going to let yourself die for some-” the creature growled. It tried to get Logan to respond, but his senses were too focused on the pain to listen. It hissed in frustration and tried several times to get control, but each time, Logan kept pressing the knife deeper into his gut. 

“You stupid…” the creature grumbled. “Fine, you want to die together? I’ll let you be.” 

With that, the creature disappeared into the darkness, leaving Logan free to decide what to do next.

Logan flinched as he pulled the blade out, a weak pulse of blood flowing behind it. He let it clatter to the floor and stood. Thankfully he only went deep enough to wound the muscle, or so he hoped. He slid a hand under his shirt and examined the damage.

Blood leaked from the wound, but a little pressure should be able to weaken it enough until he could properly patch it up. What mattered now was getting Patton’s bleeding under control.

Once again, Logan pressed his finger on Patton’s heart, clotting the injury. His chest now had a decent sized amount of blood pooling in it, but at least his heart was still beating. 

With a sigh of relief, Logan put all his weight on the metal table. Thankfully, the straps surrounding Patton’s body disappeared along with the creature. He surveyed the damage, what he did, and swallowed thickly.

“I’m so sorry,” Logan spoke. “I don’t even know where to begin to make things right.”

He stared down at Patton’s unconscious face, still peaceful and unaware of the horrors below his neck. Logan’s hand lifted from his stomach wound, and he ran a hand through Patton’s hair. Blood smeared on Patton’s skin. It felt surprisingly cool to the touch. 

Logan withdrew his hand. Was he… was he too late? No, this couldn't be happening. Calm yourself. Roman survived when it cut his neck in half. 

But that's not how it happened, was it? This was reality. There were no severed memories to twist his mind. Patton really was-

“Logan?”

Virgil’s voice echoed around the void. Logan rose his head up toward the spotlight, his vision fuzzing out in the corners. He breathed a sigh of relief and gently smiled. 

“Logan, can you hear me? It’s Virgil.”

“I’m here,” Logan called out. No sound answered back beside his own echo. His smile faltered, and he tried again. “Virgil, I’m here!”

“Logan… Logan, can you hear me?” Virgil called out again, closer this time. Logan’s heart leaped in his chest. “If you’re listening, just know I’m here for you.”

“Virgil!” Logan called out again. He looked down at Patton, his eyes blinking back tears. Why could he hear him but not the other way around? What was going on?

Logan’s body felt heavy. He swallowed and tried to concentrate on Virgil’s voice. The pain in his stomach grew, and he lifted his shirt. The dull bleeding turned into a large river, his blood pooling at his feet. 

“No,” he whispered. He put his hand back on the wound, but the blood traveled around his fingers. 

This… this was not good.

“Come on buddy. Please wake up.”

Logan squeezed his eyes shut. He was awake. What was Virgil talking about? He felt tears of frustration pricking at the corner of his eyes.

Virgil’s voice called his name again, but this time it was farther away. Logan’s heart banged against his rib cage. No, come back. Come back! Virgil, come back!

“I’m here!” He called out again. “Virgil, please, I need your help. Patton’s dying. I’m… I’m dying. We need you. Please.”

His voice echoed before only silence called out to him.

“No,” Logan mumbled. His head grew light. He lost his balance and fell back onto the floor. The white light magnified, irritating his sight and giving him a headache. He tried to stand, but the pain in his stomach kept him still. He didn’t have the strength to move anymore.

Logan allowed his eyes to close. The relief from the darkness eased his headache a small bit. He took deep breaths, allowing the rise and fall of his chest to soothe him.

Perhaps… perhaps this was recompense for all he’d done. How he abandoned them all, hurt and alone, calling out for help, and ignoring their cries. He deserved this.

The last thought that passed through his mind was how warm he was.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's no place like home.  
> \--  
> Chapter warnings: There's a non-verbally consented hug, this might make you cry but for a different reason  
> Word count: 1680

When Logan opened his eyes again, he couldn’t move. His muscles felt like lead, and his body was coated in a cold sweat. A fan beside him blew a gentle breeze on his face. 

He blinked. The glow-in-the-dark stars that Roman painted for him stared back, their comforting colors giving him a feeling of peace. His window had the blinds shut, so he couldn't tell what time of day it was, but he had a feeling it was late at night judging by the glow beneath them.

Logan wasn’t sure how or when, but somehow he returned to his room, and his skull felt like it split in half. 

Gentle breathing caught his attention, and Logan twisted his head to the left. His heart jumped. Virgil sat on a dining room chair, his arms crossed over his chest, head slumped down, and fast asleep. It was the most peaceful he'd ever seen him. Well, besides the time he caught him passed out on the couch after a late movie night. 

Logan opened his mouth to speak, but the only thing his throat did was squeak. He tried to swallow, but his throat stuck together and refused to move. He coughed twice to clear it, the ache in his head pounding like a hammer. 

The noise stirred Virgil. He groaned and opened his eyes. Logan held his breath. He blinked several times, hoping this wasn't a trick. 

Virgil’s eyes widened and he sprung to his feet. He stopped himself from approaching Logan and instead pulled the chair closer.

“Hey, you finally decided to join the living,” Virgil teased. A rare smile graced his lips. He pulled a cloth off Logan’s forehead and folded it over. “Wow, that fever of yours warmed this up pretty fast.”

Logan opened his mouth to speak, but again nothing came out. 

“How's your head feel otherwise?” Virgil asked. “You don't feel dizzy or too cold or anything, right?”

Logan at least managed to shake his head no. 

Virgil ran a hand through his hair. “Well that's progress I guess.”

Logan felt his throat bob as he swallowed. A weak croak escaped his throat. “Your eyes…”

Virgil brought his fingers up to brush the tears away and hide behind his sleeve. “Don't worry about it. I'm fine.” Logan couldn’t help but smile. Virgil’s eyes were white and brown and warm and beautiful and-

Logan flinched as Virgil put an icy hand on his forehead. Virgil’s lips drew into a frown. 

“You know, next time you get the flu, I'm tying you to your bed and not letting you up.” 

The flu? 

Logan pinched his eyebrows together. No, he was just dying on the floor. There was no flu. 

Virgil grabbed a bowl of soup beside him and gave it a stir. “Patton asked if I could give this to you when you woke up, but it's kinda cold now, so I don’t know if you want it or not. Well, I don’t even know if you want to eat or not. But he was so insistent-”

Virgil’s voice muffled as Logan focused on one word: Patton. 

Logan tried to sit up, and Virgil pushed him back down. 

“Yo, where do you think you're going? I’ll warm it up for you. I'm sure your muscles aren't in the mood to move too far.”

Logan scowled and scoffed. Virgil blinked before whispering a laugh and shaking his head. 

“Your face looks like a wet kitten.” Virgil stood with the bowl in hand. “I'll be right back. Please don't move.”

He exited the room and left Logan in peace. 

Logan tried to sit up again, but his stomach cramped and kept him still. He did his best to crane his neck, noting how sore his whole body was, and pulled up his nightshirt. 

No knife wound. 

Was all that just a fever dream? It felt so real.

“You know, when Patton comes up here and finds you awake, he's going to fuss over you for days.”

Logan’s eyes widened. Roman leaned in his doorway, a cocky grin on his face. He pushed off and sat at the edge of Logan’s bed. His neck held no red line, and he easily turned it to look at Logan.

“Feel any better?” Roman asked. 

Logan could only stare.

Roman snickered and patted Logan’s leg. “You gave us quite a scare, you know? Why didn’t you tell us you were feeling ill?”

He never felt so relieved to hear Roman’s entrancing voice, how it annunciated certain words and held an air of elegance, like a familiar childhood lullaby under the stars.

Virgil’s quick footsteps sounded down the hall, and he rounded the corner with a steaming bowl of soup.

“Careful,” he warned as he set the tray down in front of Logan, soup resting on top of his legs and slightly spilling over the sides. Virgil flipped on the lamp next to Logan’s bed, and he blinked to adjust to the sudden change in lighting.

Roman helped Logan sit up and made sure he was comfortable. Logan stared into the bowl. Of course Patton would make him chicken noodle soup. He circled his spoon around the edge, watching the carrots, peas, and noodles swirl around. 

Virgil reclaimed his seat on the dining room chair, and he wove his fingers together. Roman watched Logan take a spoonful of soup before tilting his head to the side.

“How’s your head?”

Logan looked up and squinted.

Roman chuckled. “I’m guessing it still hurts?”

“Probably,” Virgil snuffed. “I mean, you don’t just fall from a two-story library ladder and walk away without a headache.”

Fell from a… what?

Logan’s fingers ghosted over the back of his head. He flinched when his fingers hit a rather tender spot on the back of his skull. Logan pulled his fingers away and examined them. No more blood. No more horror.

“You’re lucky you fell in the medical section,” Roman explained. “We were able to quickly find a book on the flu and concussions and how to help. However, we didn’t expect you to go unresponsive for five days.”

Logan’s jaw dropped. Five… days? He’d been asleep for five days?

A light gasp caught his attention. Logan shifted his head toward the door. Patton stood with his hands on his mouth, bouncing slightly on his toes, and swallowing hard.

“You’re awake,” he chirped.

You’re alive, Logan wanted to say.

Patton leaped to the other side of the bed and scooted in close. Logan lifted the bowl of soup so it wouldn’t spill. 

“We were so worried about you, kiddo.” Patton’s eyes welled up with tears. “I thought we lost you, but I knew you’d pull through for us.” Patton’s hands kept inching closer, keeping under control until he had time to ask for a hug. 

Logan set the bowl of soup over on the nightstand. In one swift move, he wrapped his arms around Patton’s chest, shocking the other side and nearly knocking his glasses off. Patton wove his arms around Logan as well, noting how his shoulders started to quiver under his hold. He ran his hand through Logan’s hair and rested his cheek on the side of Logan’s face. 

“Still warm, but at least not as warm as you were.”

Logan’s forehead slipped down to the crook of Patton’s neck, breathing in his scent. His wonderful scent of fresh baked cookies, Crayola crayons, and the comforting smell of home. 

Home. He was home.

“Maybe if you get the soup down, I’ll move you over to toast,” Patton whispered into Logan’s hair.

Logan swallowed the moisture accumulating in his throat. He croaked, “With Crofters?”

Patton’s giggle vibrated against his ear, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Of course, if you feel up to it.”

Logan’s exhale came out with a nod of his head. Patton gave one last squeeze before they slid from each other’s grasp.

“Thank you,” Logan mumbled. “I… I don’t know what I’d do without all of you.”

“Die, probably,” Virgil remarked.

Logan’s throat choked out a laugh, and he shook his head. 

Patton sighed, stood up and spoke, “Alright, you two. Now, let’s leave Logan alone so he can rest a bit more. I don’t want us overwhelming him and making him sicker. He is inverted.”

Virgil blinked. “You mean ‘introverted’ right?”

“Don’t flip the subject.”

“That’s-” Virgil started, but shook his head. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Logan watched a shadow move from the doorway. Logan’s heart backflipped. As Patton started to walk away, Logan reached out and grabbed onto his wrist. Patton looked back at him, an eyebrow raised in question, and Logan gave a gentle squeeze.

“I wouldn’t mind the company,” Logan murmured. The three other sides looked between each other.

“Wow, now I know you’re sick,” Roman said with a laugh.

“Maybe it’s the fever talking,” Virgil responded.

Patton rose a brow as he looked down at Logan, a concerned smile on his face. “Are you sure you really want this?”

Logan’s lips pulled into a smile as he replied, “I’m sure.”

“Okay, kiddo.” Patton’s smile beamed as he sat back on the bed. “I trust you.”

“I know.” 

He allowed the other sides to talk to each other, thankful to be back in their company. His eye kept catching every shadow, every move he didn’t anticipate, and his nerves kept rising. However, a gentle squeeze from Patton’s hand, Roman’s boisterous laugh, and Virgil’s soft gaze always brought him back. He relaxed and enjoyed the security of his family's presence.

There was no evil that could touch him here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys, first off, may I say thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your support! I didn't expect something I dreamed up at 3am to get this much noise, mostly because it's horror and that turns stomachs, but here we are! It's my first finished multi-chapter fic for this community, and I'm happy to say I have more in the works. They may not be horror like this one, but there will be more to come. :D
> 
> I hope the "it was all a dream" cliche didn't ruin your mood, but from the beginning, I did say I wanted to change up the "Logan has a nightmare" idea. I'm fascinated by the idea of blurring reality, and honestly, it terrifies me (as do a lot of the other things I used in this to terrorize you) so there's a jump into my psyche and what freaks me out. Honestly, this was just me facing my fears, haha~
> 
> Also, I'm working on a sister fic from the other side's point of view while Logan is asleep, but the release date is to be determined at this point. I'd like to have it out tomorrow, but I can't say that with 100% sincerity, so I'll just say keep on the lookout for now ;)
> 
> And again, thank you so much for all your support. I really couldn't have done any of this without you <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me @anxious-ball-of-sunshine on Tumblr


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